


Care

by SaintOlga



Series: The Twink of the Revolutionary Set [3]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Age Difference, D/s, Daddy Kink, Historical Inaccuracy, Kink Discovery, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7625725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintOlga/pseuds/SaintOlga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Washington has promised to take care of him when Hamilton came to be his aide-de-camp; not aloud, maybe, but this is how he treats all his boys, his family. Although Hamilton refuses all his attempts to be closer, his kindness and affection that other boys welcome so; while they are happy with the role of his surrogate sons, Hamilton shakes it off angrily every time. This is different, though. This is where he doesn’t have to fight his aching heart over sending them out to fight, and to die. Where he doesn’t have to be stern, to command, to restrict. With Alexander, at least by night, he can be kind, and indulging, and gentle; his restrictions are welcome, his sternness required or brushed away at will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Care

Alexander is curled in his embrace, back to his chest. Washington drops kisses onto his shoulder and ear as his hand works over the boy's cock, diligently applying the skills he learned and the talent he seems to possess, according to Hamilton. Alexander is impatient today, he wiggles and fidgets and demands more, pushes his bottom back into Washington's hardness, reaches back for his hip, or for his hair to tug him closer, curves his neck to request kisses.

"Come on, sir, faster,"  he whines, capricious and bratty in a way Washington finds strangely endearing, and for that, tolerates. But when he tries to hurry Washington's hand with his own Washington says sternly, "Hold still, son."

"Or what, _Father_?" Alexander replies, in the same insolent voice - and then stills.

They both do.

The word, so simple, sends shivers down Washington's back. Not just because it is so out of place here, or because Alexander seems to dislike being called son, so where did this come from... But also, hot, glass-sharp shivers of pleasure he never knew until now.

A moment of stillness passes. Alexander twists over to him, his eyes wide open, glimmering pools of darkness in the twilight. Washington can hear him swallow; and then, a small voice:

“F-father?”

That shiver, again. Washington licks his suddenly dry lips.

“Yes, _son_?”

Alexander takes in the air, almost a sob, and surges up to him, seeking his lips, pressing his entire body closer. Washington meets him halfway, draws him into an ever-so-tighter embrace, fingers tangled in the silky strands, palm open on the narrow back. He loses himself for a moment in the touch and the feeling, in his Alexander; the experience not new, but now spiced with something else, dark and hot and wrong in the righest way possible.

Eventually, he comes up for air, and when he leans back in, it’s to sooth Alexander’s feverish kisses with his own, slower and softer. He lets go of his hair to stroke a finger over a cheekbone. Alexander whimpers, scratching his shoulder in an attempt to bring him even closer.

“Hush, son,” Washington says, the word rolling from his tongue gently, and Alexander, with a muffled gasp, obeys, only fidgeting slightly. Washington kisses him on the forehead. Another sob.

“Father…” a barely audible whisper. So unlike his Alexander, an insolent brat he usually is, commanding and demanding. He sounds lost now. Washington can’t have it. Can’t stop to think about the meaning of the shivers this word in this voice sends through his body when Alexander is like this.

Alexander shifts, and his groin comes into contact with Washington’s hip. He is hard. So is the general.

“Oh, son…” he sighs, and Alexander trembles and tries to move away. But Washington tugs him closer, holds his chin up.

“I’ll take care of you, my boy,” he says softly. Alexander shakes again, but nods.

Washington has promised to take care of him when Hamilton came to be his aide-de-camp; not explicitly, maybe, but this is how he treats all his boys, his family. Although Hamilton refuses all his attempts to be closer, his kindness and affection that other boys welcome so; while they are happy with the role of his surrogate sons, Hamilton shakes it off angrily every time. This is different, though. This is where he doesn’t have to fight his aching heart over sending them out to fight, and to die. Where he doesn’t have to be stern, to command, to restrict. With Alexander, at least by night, he can be kind, and indulging, and gentle; his restrictions are welcome, his sternness required or brushed away at will.

So now, he kisses the boy’s forehead again, and pats his hair gently, and then his back, and turns him away, into the same position they were in before. Only now, Alexander curls tighter, presses his spine into Washington’s chest, tugs and shifts him so that the man is almost on top of him, a force holding him down, or a shield hiding him from the world. When the general wraps a hand around his waist, drawing him in, he grasps at his wrist.

Washington kisses the back of his neck, opened by the strands of hair sliding away, and takes the boy’s cock into his palm.

He doesn’t play this time, doesn’t prolong the climb to pleasure. His hand is sure and swift, thumb brushing over the tip, following the vein. Alexander gasps, and arches his back into him, and shifts his hips into Washington’s groin; but there’s no demand this time, only welcoming reaction of the body. Pleased and strangely warm from his pliancy, Washington leans over to his ear, whispers, “You’re doing so well, so obedient, my son.” Alexander’s entire body shakes at that, and he claws at his forearm, nails digging into the flesh. Washington hisses in unexpected pain.

“I’m sorry,” Alexander cries out, trying to turn around, “I’m sorry, Father…”

This word again. Washington just holds him tighter.

“Hush. You didn’t want to, I know. You’re good… son…”

Alexander goes slack in his embrace, only the tips of his fingers running shakily along Washington’s arm, and his hips moving to meet a hand on his cock. As it starts to pulse, close to the peak, his fast breaths become words, “please,” and “yes,” and the new one, “Father,” that seems to go to his core as much as it goes to Washington’s. He gasps it as he comes, holding onto Washington’s arm with both hands.

While he catches his breath Washington turns him around, face to face, wraps the blankets closer around them. He’s still aroused, but it feels distant, in the back of the warm and deep glow left by what just happened. Alexander tries to curl into him, as if hiding; he catches the boy’s chin.

There are tears streaming over his face, a silver shimmer.

“Oh, my boy,” Washington says softly. Alexander shakes his head, trying to get free.

“No, no, sir, I’m good. I’m good. Let me…” he reaches down, for Washington’s hardness. But the general catches his wrist, brings his hands to his chest, covers with one wide palm.

“No, don’t. This… This was for you… son,” he tries again, curious what the reaction will be now, when the passion has passed. And again, there’s warmth inside him, chest and groin; and again, Alexander takes his next breath in like a sob. Washington’s heart aches.

“Don’t argue,” he says sternly when the boy tries to speak again. As his hands are busy, he silences Alexander with a kiss, firm, close-mouthed, that seems to seal his lips. Then draws the dark head down onto his shoulder. Wraps an arm around him, over sharp shoulder blades. Feels slender fingers grasping at his shirt.

“Go to sleep,” he says into the soft hair. His arousal is fading; the slight pain in the scratched arm makes itself known. “Go to sleep, my Alexander,” he says again, and closes his eyes.


End file.
